


Eyes on Me

by futurevampiress



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 09:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futurevampiress/pseuds/futurevampiress
Summary: You like Bucky, and Bucky likes you. Thing is, he hasn’t told you yet. Seeing as how you won’t be getting a confession any time soon, you focus your attention elsewhere.





	Eyes on Me

It all started last year in grade nine. You had your schedule mailed to you a month before, you had purchased your uniform in advance, and you even knew a few friends from your elementary school attending your high school as well. Your locker was on the first floor in the science wing, your teachers were all impeccably nice, and you were on your best behaviour. You made two friends, and went home smiling, and said for the first time ever that you loved school. Everything went surprisingly smooth, except for one fine detail.

Bucky Barnes.

You had first seen him in your math class, two rows ahead of you. You took a seat in the back to be able to see the entire blackboard and most of the room. You didn’t like not knowing what was behind you. You saw the back of his head most of the time, only catching a glimpse of his side-profile every time he turned to look at his friend. He was handsome, no doubt. Even just catching a small glance at him was enough to satisfy your day. You were expecting to see at least a handful of hot guys going into school, but that definitely fell short. At that time, Bucky was the only one that was classified as gorgeous.

You got good looks of him whenever he walked through the door in the mornings. Even though school started at eight o’clock, he always sported a smile. He would always be with his friend Steve, a short, skinny boy with a very good heart. It made you smile to see them have a laugh together. The first time you indirectly spoke to Bucky was when your teacher made an ice breaker game. You wrote down your name, along with two truths about yourself and one lie on different coloured papers. Then you bunched them up and threw them across the room, then picked up a random paper ball on the floor, and had to figure out which one was the lie. The teacher went around the room to each row of desks, asking the student to read who they got, what was written on the paper, and guess which one of the three options was the lie.

You got Bucky.

You could easily tell he had boy writing. The way he hastily scribbled everything down in a rush, trying to get his thoughts down. He wrote it in cursive, which just made it even worse. You managed to make out what he wrote, though. You had lots of time to decipher it.

“Bucky Barnes

1\. My legal name is James  
2\. It takes me ten minutes to get to school  
3\. I have a tattoo”

You thought long and hard about it. He was just entering grade nine. You immediately thought the tattoo one, simply because who’s that young and has already gotten a tattoo? You knew his legal name was James because of roll-call, but you had no idea if it took him only ten minutes to get to school. He looked like a guy that could easily persuade his parents into getting a tattoo at this age. You took the risk, and chose the amount of time to get to school for the lie.

Turns out, you were right.

Everyone was shocked about him having a tattoo, so he explained how he gave  _himself_  one, which was a small star on his left shoulder. He had picked up a homemade tattoo gun his dad had, and doodled it on his arm when his dad wasn’t around. That was when he was just ten. It almost got infected because Bucky didn’t take care of it right. He certainly learned his lesson that day.

The first time you spoke with him  _directly_  was, of course, in English class. Group work obviously. It wasn’t difficult; you just had to read passages from  _Romeo and Juliet_ , posing as one of the characters. You practiced saying lines with him, along with the rest of your group, to familiarize yourselves with the language. Shakespeare language was, and still is, a major bitch to speak without stuttering. You were Lady Capulet, and he Capulet. It was a short interaction in Act I Scene I, but it was nice to see Bucky get into it. The moment the scene was completed, you sat down with your group while the next one went. Bucky whisper-talked to you during the other performances, making your heart beat faster.

Speaking with him was worth the uncomfortable heart rate.

Soon enough, you became friends with Bucky. Not long after with Steve as well. He was the most down-to-earth guy you’ve ever met. Even more so than Bucky. You clicked with him really well, mostly because he only had good things to say. Bucky always looked out for him, though. Steve had made it perfectly clear that he could take care of himself, but Bucky was always there for him, no matter what. Which only made him more attractive.

You were crushing on him in no time.

You had three classes together with him in first semester, and then all of them in second semester. You had plenty of time to spend together, especially when your teachers assigned seating placements and group projects. When summer rolled around however, he and his family took a trip to Romania for three weeks, and then he went out with Steve and his own friends. You would see the photos he would post on Facebook, liking the albums, but no individual pictures; unless it was his profile photo, of course.

The first semester of grade ten flew by. Day in and day out, it was the same old things. A new lesson, writing, homework, next class. Lunch time was a little bit more fun, because the day had progressed and you had finally woken up. Plus, Bucky and Steve would sit with you sometimes. They would seamlessly brighten your day.

You made sure to be extra careful to keep your crush on Bucky on the down-low. You suspected that Steve knew, because he was always pushing you to talk to him about things not school related. Your likes, dislikes, interests, what you did in your spare time. Things that friends would talk about when they’re getting to know each other. You did ask him a few things, but didn’t go too deep to not make it seem like you wanted to know everything about him. If you wanted to know something about Bucky, Steve would probably know. He’s his best friend, after all. But you couldn’t ask him, even if you wanted to. That would just let Steve know that you’re crushing on his best friend. And he’d definitely know what’s up.

You often teased Bucky when you had the chance, careful not to offend him. Your main target is his hair, mostly about how long it was getting. Again, you didn’t mention it too much because you absolutely loved it. He took care of it, and you could tell. He would have days where he would wear a baseball cap to hide how greasy it was. You thought it was adorable.

January rolled by. The wind was chillier, the days ending darker, and Bucky looked scruffier. He grows facial hair like a grown man with the rate he’s going. He shaves every now and then, and you can smell the aftershave on him sometimes. That’s what he smells like: aftershave, mixed with cold air. It’s a really intoxicating smell.

You two have history, math, lunch, and science together this year. You were thrilled of course when you found out he was in your classes again. You posted your schedule on Facebook like last year, and he commented what he had with you. You simply replied with an “Awesome!” and waited for school to being.

So far, he hasn’t disappointed you. A week into the new semester and you’ve already discovered something new about him. You even managed to have your locker a few down from his. Luck was definitely on your side for the start of the new year.

Maybe almost too much.

One thing you had noticed is that Dante, a guy in your history and math class, had taking a liking to you. You sat beside him in history, and he was very friendly. He spoke with you when your teacher gave you time to get worksheets done, and on the off chance outside of class, like in the cafeteria or in the library. You thought nothing of it. You were too busy thinking about the never-ending possibilities of how you’ll never tell Bucky how you feel. Hell would freeze over before you even opened your mouth.

Thing was, Bucky felt the same way you did. And he  _did_  notice the signs that Dante was giving you.

Bucky would see the small touches Dante would give you, whether it be the bump of your elbows or a small shove. He would flash you a toothy grin and make you laugh. It made Bucky’s stomach churn.

With jealousy.

Steve took notice of Bucky’s peeved behaviour. How he would clench his jaw whenever he looked in Dante’s direction. How his face would be set in a deep frown, and how he would crack his fingers in irritation. Steve would just look at him and give him a knowing smile. The same thing happens in math. You’re seated next to Dante, and he does the same things: make you laugh, smile, and joke about math being torture. You’ve played along with it, mostly because no guy has ever been interested in you really. This has been going on for a week now. You still haven’t realized.

“Hey, Bucky,” you say, greeting him happily as you walk into math class, opting to chat a bit before your teacher comes in.

“Hey,” he says back, giving you a quick smile. He pats his hands on his desk and leans back in his chair. You resist the urge to give him a once-over.

“How’re you doing on your history assignment?” you ask. “The Facebook profile.”

“Ahh,” he starts, giving a wave of his hand. “Alright. I’m getting to it.”

“Okay, that either means you’re halfway there,” you smirk. “Or you haven’t started at all.”

Bucky puts his hands up in surrender. “You caught me,” he chuckles. “I’m not particularly motivated.”

“Of course not,” you jest. “Well. I’ve started mine. I got Winston Churchill. You can take a look at mine if you need a place to start.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “Maybe I will. And I promise I won’t plagiarize.”

“Well I hope not,” you laugh. “I don’t know how you c–oh okay I see it now. Copying the format and the structure of my sentences. I won’t let you though!”

“Don’t worry,” he tells you. “I swear that I won’t take anything.”

“Good,” you say with a curt head nod. “I’ll print it out tonight and let yo–oh, hey Dante.”

Bucky keeps his eyes forward instead of rolling them back into his head. Dante gives you a bright smile and a greeting when he walks through the door.

“You do the homework from last night?” he asks.

“Mooost of it, yeah,” you reply, clearing your throat a bit. You turn your body towards him and cross your leg behind you. “Some parts I didn’t get so I just left it. I hope she doesn’t do a homework check.”

“Oh, well you can copy mine if you want,” he offers. “I don’t know which questions you did, but you can swap with me.”

“That’d be great,” you say. “Thanks.”

Bucky has moved his jaw side to side since Dante presented himself. He’s cautious not to give him a glare, since Dante doesn’t have any bad blood with him. Neither does Bucky, but jealousy can be a dangerous thing. He watches how you react. You’re biting your lip, you’re twisting your uniform between your fingers, and you’re avoiding eye contact. You do all of those things when you’re nervous. The only conclusion he can come to right now is that you like Dante too. You don’t seem uncomfortable with him, so that option’s out.

_She’s allowed to like whoever she wants, you dumbass._

Seeing as how he won’t be regaining your attention any time soon, Bucky sits up in his chair and leans his arms on his desk, waiting for Ms. Goldsack to walk in any second now. His eye twitches when you laugh. He cannot wait until class is over. You go to your seat without even saying goodbye to him, but he knows you don’t owe him anything. You’re plenty nice to him all the time. Ignoring him here and there isn’t going to kill him.

He looks behind him every now and then during the lesson, just to see what you’re doing. It sucks sitting near the front, because then he’s letting everyone know how obvious he is about looking at you. Right now you’re looking down at your binder settled in your lap. Though it doesn’t look like you’re reading things over.

“What’re you doing?” Dante whispers.

“Reading,” you whisper back, not looking away from your iPod screen. “It helps pass the time.”

“Is it something that I’d like?”

“Definitely not.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s not published literature.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not telling you!”

You cover your mouth to hide your laugh, and press your lips together in a thin line to prevent yourself from getting caught by your teacher. Dante smiles with you and lightly shrugs his shoulder against yours. You do the same back, then tell him to stop before Ms. Goldsack sees. Bucky clicks his tongue in displeasure and turns back around to copy what’s written on the blackboard.

He  _really_  can’t wait for this class to be over.

* * *

“I can’t believe it!” Bucky scowls, gripping his fork. “He just comes strolling in and interrupts us. And she didn’t even say goodbye or give me a hearty ‘see ya later’ before going back to her desk! How rude was that?”

Bucky angrily eats his chicken pasta across from Steve in the cafeteria. He’s been in a sour mood ever since math. Dante’s whole presence just puts him off. And he doesn’t like it. Steve sits back in his chair and silently eats his sandwich as his best friend rants to him.

“Honestly, I don’t even think she likes him,” he says. “I mean,  _really_? The goddamn  _quarterback_  on the football team? Can that be any more of a cliché? She doesn’t seem like the type, Steve.”

“Well you never know,” Steve shrugs. “You still don’t know that much about her, Buck. You her favourite colour, season, and all that generic stuff that friends ask each other. You don’t know the type of guys she’s into. That’s something only brought up by a dare or from one of her friends. I highly doubt she’d discuss it with you.”

“You listen here punk,” Bucky says crossly, pointing his fork at Steve. “I am a firm believer of liking whoever the hell you want to like. But I also believe that you shouldn’t be into someone that’s only gonna hurt you in the end.”

“Where are you getting that idea?” Steve asks, looking down the cafeteria hall. He can see you laughing with your friends. “I think she seems pretty happy with herself. From what I can tell, anyway.”

“But you don’t know what she  _does_  when he’s around her, Steve,” Bucky presses, shoving more of his lunch in his mouth. He chews generously and swallows before speaking again. “She gets all nervous and smiley and all that stuff she does when she’s nervous. Look, I don’t know about you, but I heard that girls do that to ease the guy into eventually leaving her alone. Or, um. Like–like they fall for their charm and whatever so they don’t get hurt? Do you get me?”

“Not really, no,” Steve answers, knitting his brows together. He takes a sip of his Kool-Aid and leans forward. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go over there right now and tell her how you feel? I’m sure that’ll clear everything up.”

“Pffft. What are you  _getting at_ , Steve?” Bucky says, pretending he has no idea what he’s talking about. “Are you insinuating that I like her?”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating, I’m telling,” he responds confidently. And a little smugly. Bucky opens his mouth to defend himself, but Steve shakes his head. “Stop right there before you lose your head. You may watch how _______ reacts to Dante, but  _I_ watch how  _you_  react when you see those two together. You tense up, go really quiet, give curt replies. You’re not all that hard to read, y’know.”

Bucky drops his fork and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. He’s too stressed out from this conversation now. He hasn’t told Steve directly that he likes you, but apparently, Bucky doesn’t even have to. Seems like Steve is more observant than Bucky gives him credit for.

“What do you suggest I do then?” Bucky asks, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Just tell her,” he says.

“Easier said than done, my friend,” Bucky scoffs.

“Better do it fast then. Otherwise, Dante might just come right out and beat you to it. What will you do then?”

Bucky sighs and drops his hands from his face. He straightens up in his chair to get a good look at the back of your head. From this angle, you seem to be having a good time with your friends. You flick your hair to the side as you write something down in one of your binders. Bucky finds himself smiling softly, then relaxes in his seat.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna do that,” he comments.

“Just think about it,” Steve encourages. “You’ll come up with something.”

* * *

The next day, Bucky finds himself blessed because Dante isn’t in school. He first noticed in the morning when he didn’t see him at his locker. There was always the chance that he would arrive late to school because of an appointment or because he slept in, but that wasn’t the case. The second Bucky sat down in his desk and the history lesson began, he was smiling ear to ear. Steve gave him a teasing shove, but Bucky didn’t mind one bit.

Bucky enthusiastically participates in the class discussion and answering questions, all the while smiling at the back of your head. When Mrs. Caranci hands out worksheets, you ease your binder to the side onto Dante’s desk without a care. It makes Bucky happy for some reason; he’s probably overthinking it, because if Steve wasn’t in class, he’d generously shove all his things to his desk as well. But it’s not Steve that’s missing today: it’s Dante.

He notices you’re bored during the lesson. You hold your head up with your fist, and you’re slumped in your seat. He sees you hang your head to look at your phone in your lap. He laughs quietly to himself, and shoots you a quick, slightly teasing text.

“Bored now that your desk buddy is gone?"

You see Bucky’s message appear at the top of your phone, and you shake your head. You give him a quick look over your shoulder and smile at him before sending a reply.

“I’m always bored what’re you talking about~”

You pay attention to the lesson when Mrs. Caranci looks around too much. You keep your phone in your lap however, and look down whenever you can see your screen light up.

“Idk you just seem extra bored today.”

“Want me to take his seat?”

“_______ answer me now I’m bored.”

“I’ll start throwing paper balls at you.”

“You know I will.”

“There’ll be anarchy.”

“I’ll start a revolution.”

You smile down at your phone and shake your head. Knowing Bucky, he’d probably start a paper ball war and get sent out in the hall to get a talking to about disrupting the class. You hastily send him a reply to get him to simmer down.

“Stop it! I’m fine you goof!!”

Bucky takes it.

“Okay fine. I’ll postpone my plans for liberation and save them for later.” You give him a thumbs up without turning towards him, and that satisfies Bucky enough to not produce an eye-roll or a snarky remark.

He has a blast with you and Steve at lunch, cracking joke after joke which makes you tear up. As promised, you printed off a copy of your history assignment and give it to Bucky.

“This is what I got so far,” you say, handing him the pages. “I feel like I should make it less wordy, but I can’t help myself.” Bucky flips through it, skimming the pages to see how you’ve set yours up.

“I mean it helps that Mrs. Caranci gave us the layout,” Bucky starts, eyes darting all over the page. “But actually seeing how someone else does it gives me a better idea on how to start it. Thanks.

“No problem,” you smile. “What about you, Steve? How’s yours going?”

“It’s getting there,” he replies.

“It’s  _getting_  there getting there,” you say, side-eyeing him, “or it’s  _actually_  getting there?”

“It’s actually getting there,” he grins. “Unlike Buck, I start the projects when they’re assigned.”

“Hey,” Bucky interjects, slightly offended. “They get done in the end, don’t they?”

“By the skin of your teeth,” you add nonchalantly.

“Oh, come on,” Bucky protests. “That only happened–“

“Seven times.”

You and Steve answer in unison, prompting Bucky to shut up. He sinks down in his chair, and sets the papers down on the table. Now that he knows you and Steve like to keep track of how quickly he finishes his assignments, he can’t drop the ball on this one. When he gets home tonight, he’ll go straight to the family computer and start researching his assigned World War Two officer, Benito Mussolini. It’s different to have a member of the Axis powers, but considering this assignment is just fill in the blanks, Bucky will just do as the assignment description says.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky speaks up again, leaning his elbows on the table. “I’ll get started on this tonight. I promise.”

“Better be one you’re gonna keep,” you say, pulling out your binder. You take out a new sheet, and start re-writing the notes from today.

“It will be,” Bucky says. He leans over the table to see what you’re doing. “Are you writing out the same stuff from today?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s for Dante since he missed it today.”

“Oh.”

The tone to Bucky’s voice makes you stop writing and look up. Steve presses his mouth into a thin line to keep his smile under control. He shifts to the side and quietly eats his cheese and crackers to see how this is going to go.

“Something wrong, Bucky?” you ask.

“What? No,” Bucky defends, crossing his arms. “I’m good.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. You know that change in attitude anywhere; you do it sometimes too when you hear something you don’t like. You become snarky and a little hostile. Bucky seems to be doing the same thing, but he also avoids eye-contact and clenches his jaw. He does that a lot when he’s upset.

_Best not to say anything about it._

You nod in understanding, then get back to writing out the history notes from earlier that day. Steve’s face falls flat, and he gives Bucky a deadpan look. They have a stare-off, silently challenging the other to say something. Neither of them back down, and when you’ve noticed the silence, you stop writing again and look between the two. Instead of saying something to break to tension, you quietly watch on, betting on Bucky to break contact first. You smile and support your face with your fist. Bucky’s eyes start to water, but Steve hasn’t even budged. He keeps eating without looking down, and doesn’t break a sweat. No tears in sight, either. After another minute, Bucky has tears streaming down his cheeks, and his eyes look a little red. He can’t take it anymore, so he blinks and looks away.

“Yes!” you cheer, giving Steve a high-five. “I knew you’d lose!”

“You did, did you?” Bucky asks, wiping his eyes.

“Come on, Buck,” Steve beams. “You haven’t beaten me yet. That’s probably a hundred to zero by now.”

“You like your hyperboles, don’t you?” he scoffs, giving him a soft glare.

“I’d hardly call it a hyperbole,” Steve counters. “You’ve lost so many times, I don’t even know what the score is anymore.”

“I’ll have to go against you one day, Steve,” you comment smugly. “I’m pretty good at it. When no one’s cheating anyways.”

“Why don’t you and Bucky have a go?” Steve asks. You look at him briefly before looking up at Bucky. His eyes are still a little red. You smile and shake your head.

“After seeing how long he can last, he’s no competition,” you say.

“I call bullshit,” Bucky says.

“Well I’m not bullshitting you,” you say. “I can last way longer than you.”

“Prove it,” Bucky challenges.

You’re about to start eating your poptarts, but after hearing Bucky challenge you, you can’t  _not_  do it. It gives you the chance to stare in his eyes for a minute or so. And you can do it without being weird about it. You set your snack down and cross your arms on the table.

“You’re on,” you smirk.

“Okay. Just give me a second.”

He rubs his eyes again, double-checking to confirm that there are no eyelashes bent towards his eyes, nor little crusties. When he’s ready, he clears his throat and crosses his arms on the table as well, and keeps himself eye-level with you.

“Ready?” Steve asks.

You and Bucky nod.

“Go.”

The intensity is incredible straight from the get-go. For Bucky, anyway. You’re completely relaxed, taking the time to get a real good look at his eyes. They’re blue for one, but they’re  _really_  blue. Prolonged eye-contact can get to be too much at times, so you look away to ease your anxiety. But staring into Bucky’s eyes? You’d take that deal any day. You smile softly, but Bucky takes that as you being cocky. He leans closer, trying to intimidate you. You don’t flinch, but neither does he. His eyes start to get glassy, and you can feel your victory coming within thirty seconds at best. Bucky isn’t finished yet, though.

He leans in even closer, going as far to get out of his chair and press his palms on the table. You don’t know where he’s going with this, but you like it. You can smell the remnants of his cologne. You don’t know what it is, but you’re thankful he’s not one of those boys that pollute themselves in Axe. Some of his hair falls over his eyes, and they twitch, but he doesn’t blink. You click your tongue, and grin widely as you get out of your seat as well and plant both your hands on the table.

“You alright, Bucky?” you ask. “Something in your eye?”

“Shut up,” he grits through his teeth. You snort.

_What a sore loser._

“Tears of joy because you’re almost at your limit?”

He doesn’t respond. Seeing how hard he’s trying to keep his composure, you keep poking fun at him, all in good humour.

“What’s wrong? Did you stub your toe?”

“No need to cry over losing.”

“Did they cancel  _Parks and Rec_?”

“Dammit.”

Bucky looks down and blinks, letting his unintentional tears slide down his cheeks. You pump your fist in the air in victory, then slump back down in your seat. Steve gives you another high-five.

“That’s one for me,” you say proudly.

“And still zero for Bucky,” Steve adds.

“Leave me alone,” Bucky whines, wiping his eyes again. “Just eat your crackers and write your stupid notes.”

You and Steve share a knowing look when Bucky gets defensive. You both do as he says, Steve finishing his snack, and you continuing to write out your notes. You eye your poptarts on the table, then at Bucky’s crestfallen expression.

_What an adorable baby._

You rip open the package and hand Bucky half a piece.

“Here.” You wave it in his face when he just stares at it. He’s staring at you, actually, but you don’t realize. You just want him to take the poptart. “Helloooo? Bucky?” You poke his forehead with it, and he finally snaps out of it.

“Oh. Thanks.”

He takes it from your hand and bites generously into it. He smiles widely, which makes you smile in return. Steve has a mini-moment to himself, wondering why the hell his friends are so blatantly stupid to the obvious.

* * *

Two weeks later, and Bucky is back to being sour and passive.

He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but he’s tired of you telling him that Dante asked you to skip class with him, or that he brought you some cookies, or that he let you copy off his math sheet. He’s tired of seeing how big your smiles gets when you talk about him. He’s tired of hearing you speak so quickly because you’re so happy about it. He’s tired of you writing out notes for him when he’s very goddamn well capable of doing it himself. And he’s so, so tired, of hearing Steve telling him to get a move on.

Bucky hates it when Steve is right.

Steve keeps pestering Bucky about opening his goddamn mouth and telling you that he likes you, but Bucky makes the excuse of never finding the right time. Every time he’s with you, you mention Dante at least once, and his whole mood drops. And he’s sure you can see it too. He’s not as funny, engaging, or generally happy at the mention of his name. At times he teases you about it, but it’s not enough for him. He would think your smile would diminish his bitter attitude, but his stubbornness gets in the way.

Time for Steve’s encouraging advice.

The two of them sit in one of the libraries “quiet spaces”, three separate rooms meant for students who actually  _want_  to get homework done without background noise. Steve wanted one of the rooms to get a head-start on his science questions, but mostly just to talk Bucky into laying it out flat about his feelings for you. Without anyone else hovering around them, and potential eavesdroppers. Steve only wants Bucky to hear what he has to say.

“Look, Buck,” he starts, putting down his pencil. Bucky keeps scrawling out his notes, not casting Steve a glance. He already knows what he’s going to say. “You know I’m going to let you do whatever you want, right? I’m all for your decision about… this.”

Bucky stops writing and purses his lips. He sits back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair, sighing tiredly. “Are you?” he asks, looking at his friend doubtfully. “Because everything you’ve said up until now has been the complete opposite.”

“I know,” Steve quickly interjects. “I know I keep telling you to tell _______ about your feelings for her already. But I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“You’re not?” Bucky asks, raising a brow. Steve shakes his head.

“No,” he replies. “Like I said, whatever you decide, I’ll be with ya.”

“’Til the end of the line?” Bucky asks.

“’Til the end of the line,” Steve smiles, nodding.

“Well, alright then,” Bucky smiles, getting into the groove of things again. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing.” Steve picks up his pencil again and starts skimming through his textbook. The room is silent once more, the only sounds being the soft scribbles of pencil to paper. However, Steve isn’t finished yet. He flicks his eyes towards Bucky, then back down at his homework. He smiles jokingly as he speaks. “I mean, if you want to see the person you like go out with another person, that’s cool. I’ll stand by and support her. And I hope you will too but… it’s your decision.”

Bucky stops focusing on his work and instead lets his eyes roam all over the table as Steve speaks. He knows Steve is trying to irritate him, probe him into taking action. He’s done it a few times before, and he’s not so surprised that he’s doing it again. But not for this reason. Bucky can’t even think of a comeback, so Steve resumes his train of thought.

“She’ll probably be cheering for him at the football games,” he says, finger under his chin as if he’s deep in thought. “Wear his sweaters, make signs saying ‘Number eleven on the field but number one in my heart’, and make him one of those woven bracelets. They’ll be all couple-y and start holding hands, meeting each other at their lockers, share a kiss before going to class and–“

Bucky finally snaps, and slams his hands on the table. The corner of Steve’s mouth twitches, wanting to smile, but he keeps his composure. Bucky sighs through his nose, wanting nothing more than to just yell at Steve to shut up. But by using his words to project those kinds of images in his head, Bucky remains calm, and stares hardly at Steve.

“You’re a punk,” he utters.

“And you’re a jerk,” Steve says, smiling fondly. Bucky groans and leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

“What do you suggest I do then, huh?” he asks. “Since you’re the one with all the answers.”

“Not this time, Buck,” Steve says, shaking his head. “This has to come from you alone.”

“I feel like you like being useless in these situations,” Bucky speculates. “And it ticks me off.”

“Just being a good friend,” Steve muses.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky says, waving him off. He blows his lips, then looks back down at the table. Instead of wasting his time doing school work, he can think of ways to confess to you. He picks up his pencil and starts brainstorming.

* * *

Bucky had a fantastic idea in mind to confess his feelings. You like jokes in general, so why not confess with a joke in his own way? But he’s not saying it verbally.

He’s using a cake.

A cake that he’s making himself.

He’s never made a cake in his life, so he looks up the ingredients during class to shop for them after school. His mom is going to go bonkers over it when he tells her why he’s baking a cake. His younger sister Rebecca will no doubt join in on the fun too. Once he writes down what he needs, he slides his phone in his pocket and powers through the rest of the day.

Since Bucky doesn’t want any help, he does everything by himself, no matter how messy it gets. Given the fact that it’s  _you_ , he knows you’ll appreciate his hard work. Whether or not you’ll respond to the message written on the cake, he’ll be relieved that he finally told you how he feels. He just hopes he doesn’t lose his friendship with you.

He shoos his mom and sister out of the kitchen so they can stop teasing him. His mom is thrilled about the whole thing, her little James being so sweet. Rebecca, however, despite tossing a few teasing remarks at him, is excited about the whole thing. She’s never seen her big brother so worked up and nervous about something before. She wants to help, and after a few puppy-eyed looks, Bucky finally gives in.

“Alright, fine,” he says. “You can help me decorate it, okay?”

“Okay!”

Once the cake is baked and ready to be iced, Bucky calls Rebecca back in and hands her a piping bag filled with red icing.

“Squeeze it all over the edges, Rikki,” he says. “I’ll write the message after you’re done.”

Rebecca stands on a chair to get a birds-eye view of the cake, and carefully starts spreading the icing around the outside like Bucky said. When she’s finished, she stands back and let’s Bucky have a look.

“Looks great, Rikki,” he says. “Good job.”

He pats her head in appreciation, then watches her run off to go watch TV. He picks up a smaller icing piper, and stares at the blank cake in front of him. He had a really good idea in mind, a mix between funny and sweet, but now he’s second guessing himself. He thinks about the rejection if you shut him down, tell him that he’s not the one you like. He thinks about you cutting him off completely because of the insinuating awkward atmosphere between the two of you. But there’s always the sliver of chances that you’ll accept his confession and he won’t have to look like a complete idiot. He focuses on that possibility as he thinks of something new to write on your cake. No matter how long it takes, he’ll think of something short and sweet to sway you.

Turns out, it takes longer than he thought.

Bright and early on a fine Thursday morning, Bucky trudges into school with bags under his eyes, and your cake under his arm. He has a solid lid over top so no one can see that he hasn’t written anything on it. He tossed and turned and wracked his brain for  _something_  to put on your cake the night before. When he couldn’t think of anything intelligent, he left it for the morning. But now he’s running out of time. He’s going to give it to you during lunch where you can publicly accept him or deny him.

And he’s going to deal with it.

He goes to the teacher’s lounge to ask for his cake to be put in the fridge, drops off his piper, then goes off to class. He meets Steve there, and explains the situation. Steve encourages Bucky, and tells him that he’ll think of something to write on the cake before lunch time.

He doesn’t.

When lunch rolls around, he begrudgingly goes back to the teacher’s lounge to retrieve his cake. He picks up his piper and has a “fuck it” moment. He quickly scribbles a half-assed message on the cake before putting the lid back on and heading to the cafeteria. He sees Steve once he opens the door, already sitting down with you. Bucky gives a firm nod when Steve gestures to you. Taking a breath, Bucky walks down the cafeteria, and sits down across from you. He puts the cake down in front of you, and says a few words when you look at it strangely.

“So, um.” He rubs the back of his neck and lays it out straight. “Make of this what you will. I’ll accept it either way.”

You give him a confused expression, turn to Steve, then back at Bucky.

“O…kay.”

You set your phone down and stand up, your heart beating a mile a minute. You hope to god that you think it’s gonna be what you’re thinking, but the odds of that happening are pretty slim. Your hand shakes a little as you grasp the top of the lid, and cast Bucky one last glance before removing the lid entirely. You stare down at the cake, your eyes glazing over the message.

“It’s 10:45–

I’m tired–

I like you”

Your eyes widen and you part your lips. Is he serious? You flick your eyes at him, then back at the cake. You start breaking out into a very confused smile. You start chuckling lightly, then gradually build yourself up to a whole-hearted laugh. Tears form in your eyes, and you cover your mouth as you shift your vision towards Steve, Bucky, and the cake. You sniffle loudly and finally put the lid down on the table. You examine the cake some more, and see that it’s lopsided a bit, and there’s remnants of red infused with the white. It’s sort of like Bucky left a bit of himself in the cake. But Bucky can’t tell if you like it or not. He glances at Steve for some guidance, but he puts up a single finger and mouths “give her a minute”. Bucky nods and leans forward on the table, waiting to accept his fate.

“This is…” you start, not sure how to respond. “I can’t believe that… I just… like, my  _god_. I–“ You look at him directly and lower your hand from your mouth. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, nodding slowly. “I, um.”

He stops speaking, opting to just wait to hear your response. His face grows strained when you don’t say a word. You notice the silence, and you cover your mouth again in embarrassment when you see Bucky’s expression.

“Oh, god. Are you waiting for me?”

“Yeah.”

Instead of answering him, you smile as you swipe off some icing on your finger and spread it along his lips. Bucky nods and looks down, smacking his lips together.

“I get it,” he starts, sounding defeated. “I went a bit overboard and you don’t need to feel obligated to say the same thing back but I just wanted to put it out there because it was  _killing_  me not to say anything and–“

“Bucky.”

He looks up when you call his name, and you lean over the table to give him a peck on the lips. Bucky closes his eyes when you pull away, and his lips twitch into a genuine smile. You lick up the icing on your lips, and beam at him.

“That answer your question?”

Bucky hangs his head, then comes back up and shakes his head in disbelief. He nearly had a heart attack from your prolonged response. He scoops up some icing on his finger too and wipes it on your face.

“Yes,” he says, sucking on his fingers. “It does.”

The two of you share another smile while Steve claps beside you. You take a quick photo of the cake, before sharing it with the two of them.

“How long?” you ask quietly, still a little awestruck that Bucky likes you back.

“Uhhhhh.” He counts on his fingers, and it surprises you when he has to use both hands. “Abouuut seven months now?”

“Seven months?” you repeat, slightly exasperated. “You had me waiting for seven months?”

“Uhhh yeeeeesss?” he answers carefully. He relaxes though when you break out into a smile.

“Damn, Barnes,” you say, eating a corner of the cake. “So what made you wanna finally tell me?”

“This should be good,” Steve comments, eating some cake himself.

“I uh,” Bucky starts, clearing his throat. “Just thought it was the right time, y’know?”

“Okay, now I’m calling bullshit,” Steve interjects. “You know that’s a lie. Come on. I’m sure she’ll love the truth.”

“The truth?” you repeat. “What happened?”

Steve waits for Bucky to tell you, leaning forward in anticipation. When Bucky doesn’t crack, Steve sighs and takes it upon himself to say it.

“Bucky got jealous seeing you with Dante,” he says, scooping a piece of cake into his mouth. He grins widely at Bucky as he chews. Bucky narrows his eyes at him, but shrinks in his seat in embarrassment when he looks at you.

You’re smiling with pride, and laugh a bit at him.

“I don’t get why you’d be jealous,” you say. “I don’t like him. I like you.”

“Well you certainly didn’t shrug him off when he was getting too close to you,” Bucky chastises.

“I just liked the attention,” you explain. “No one’s really liked me before, and I didn’t know how to react to stuff like that. So I just rolled with it.”

“Well if you liked me, why didn’t  _you_  tell me?” Bucky questions.

“Yeah right,” you say, shaking your head. “Like that was gonna happen. It’d definitely be more embarrassing for me than you. Maybe in the future I would, but man am I glad I waited.”

“You.  _Suck_ ,” Bucky claims, pointing his fork at you.

“I know,” you say cutely. “But  _you_  don’t. Thank you for telling me. Now we can both stop suffocating, and Steve can stop intervening.”

You both give Steve cross expressions, but he just shrugs his shoulders, smiling all the while. He reaches over the table and takes another forkfull of cake.

“Just doing my job,” he says proudly. “You two would be lost without me.”

You and Bucky start protesting, telling him all the advice he gave the two of you, but Steve doesn’t care. He’s just happy that his friends are where they want to be.

Finally.


End file.
